Source of Wander

Sometimes you just fall in love with a place
Be it buildings, a people or a natural space
It’s hard to describe the source of appeal
It’s less an aesthetic than how it makes you feel

In Tibet there was a cliff above the Puncheon’s palace
In Cambodia, a people, wronged but without malice
Morocco had the desert and the camp therein
Croatia, an island, not without sin

The Thai’s gave me an escape and an awful tattoo
Israel taught me respect, and what was taboo
Egypt had grandeur, like I’d never seen
Each offered something new, these places I’ve been

But sitting in Uganda, overlooking the Nile
Beer in my hand, I can’t help but smile
Is this the way that my die has been cast?
To keep stumbling upon places more impressive than the last?

Written July 2010, on the banks of the Nile in Uganda, loving life and to be back on the road!

No Place Like Home

Although with heavy heart, you were departed
No time to mourn, once the adventure got started
Realise what it is that I have left behind
Pay my respects, am not unkind.

Not sure why I don’t feel more upset
Maybe it hasn’t quite sunk in yet
Loved what we had, what I know I have left
But don’t feel the loss, am in no way bereft.

There is no ache in the pit of my core
None of the longing I thought was in store
I know I’m distracted, and maybe that’s it
But surely it should hurt, even a bit.

I think in my head I knew it was right
To call it a day when I got on that flight
We shared something special, but we’d run our race
It was time for a new life...in a new place.

Goodbye Oz

Written in July 2010, after leaving home for what I figured was going to be a while.

Andy’s Gone with Cattle by Henry Lawson

Our Andy’s gone to battle now
‘gainst drought, the red marauder:
Our Andy’s gone with cattle now
Across the Queensland border.

He’s left us in dejection now;
Our thoughts with him are roving;
It’s dull on this selection now,
Since Andy went a-droving.

Who now shall wear the cheerful face
In times when things are slackest?
And who shall whistle round the place
When fortune frowns her blackest?

Oh, who shall cheek the squatter now
When he comes round us snarling?
His tongue is growing hotter now
Since Andy crossed the darling.

Poor Aunty’s looking thin and white;
And Uncle’s cross with worry;
And poor old Blucher howls all night
Since Andy left Macquarie.

Oh, may the showers in torrents fall,
And all the banks run over;
And may the grass grow green and tall
In pathways of the drover.

And may good angels send the rain
On desert stretches sandy;
And when the summer comes again
God grant ‘twill bring us Andy.

Not mine, but wow, what a beautiful Australian poem, discovered and given to me by my mum.

5 Min Nap

Light of wallet and even lighter of heart
Three Asian bankers in an adventure took part
Each had a skill which he brought to the table
Something he excelled at, that the others weren't able

Vic could sleep, anywhere and anytime
Had a penchant for cheese, but struggled to rhyme
Pete liked to fart and board the odd luxury yacht
Even if his mates, he sometimes forgot
Yao Ming was tall, but his gift was his snore
He could rattle any hostel room, right to its core

They each had different favs, of the places they went
But agreed the Croatian girls were the ones heaven sent
None knew what was next to do or to see
They were all just so happy, not to be at DB

Written Aug 2009, just discovered this poem on the back of a plane ticket. Was written while travelling with two mates, during a mandatory 5 min nap break (Thanks Vic).

The Decepti-con: More than meets the eye

Sometimes I'm surprised by what lies inside
The part of people that they choose to hide
At first, just lovely, a pleasure to meet
Underneath deception, lies and deceit

What drives a person to acts of such callous?
Were they hurt themselves, what's the source of this malice?
Do they secretly rage after some injustice past?
It must have been truly awful for its mark to last

Although shocked when you first see it in force
Thinking back you realise there were signs, of course
Promises broken, smoothed over with lies
Little untruths uttered in front of your eyes

Seemingly harmless, you fail to seize
These are just symptoms of a greater disease
A beast, fed by evil, lying under the surface
Dormant until awoken, fuelled with a purpose

Unmasked and exposed in the harsh light of day
Hell bent on nothing but getting its way
Unashamed by its ugliness or the fork of it tongue
Its wrath rages fiercely until the damage is done

Standing alone, in a wake of destruction
The beast retreats waiting for further instruction
Parasitic in nature, it feeds off the hate
Binding with its host, they share a similar fate

Each time it emerges the monster gets stronger
The damage a little worse, the duration a little longer
And before you know it the person is gone
It was the beast, not the host that was there all along.

Written in Oct 2009, during a dispute with an ex-housemate, who proved herself duplicitous beyond any of our imaginations.

Living the Dream

Insatiable for adventure with a thirst that can’t be quenched
He's wallowed in the pool of life and come away drenched
Never able to sit still, or even slow down
Hungry for a new life, in a foreign town

Determined not to be, just like all the rest
Trying all the paths to see which one suits him best
Laughing to himself at those who choose to settle
Why be on the road if your pedals not to the metal?

He only gets one shot at this, so he'll make sure he does it right
Live and love and play and dream, make peace and start a fight.
He has his whole life, to live the aussie dream
but not before he's had the chance to blow off a little steam

How can he give himself to someone else for life
If he's barely old enough to know himself, let alone a wife?
He'll be drawn to those with vision, who protect the lower class
And shun those more focussed on their own wealthy ass.

This will change in time, inevitable as kids and tax,
But he'll enjoy it while he can, take some time to relax
The secret to a life, lived without regret
Is to follow his dreams, and not the safe bet.

Written July 09, while my friends are looking at apartments and marriages and I am giving in to the travel bug again.

War and Peace

War

There have been certain similarites in girlfriends of old,
a smallness of stature has been common I'm told.
Clever, opinionated and strong-willed women,
with a personality larger than the height they've been given.

However when two strong people find common passion,
it seems they clash in the most extraordinary fashion.
Battles rage fiercly, without subject essential,
two losers and the outcome inconsequential.

Arguments purely for arguments sake,
stubborness and principal defining your stake.
Pushing the boundaries, in a way, immature,
mind games dreamt up, by the insecure.

But when the armistace is declared, the end of the war,
and you're two exhausted casualties, exposed and raw,
that very same passion that fuelled the madness,
lights up the room, replaces the sadness.

You quickly forget the collateral damage,
that's behind you now, you survived it, you'll manage.
Closer, all thanks to those "minor" spars,
two souls entiwned by their battle scars.

But when the foundation of peace is a delicate truce,
it only takes boredom or a similar excuse,
for the beast lying dormant, so close to the surface
to rear its ugly head, always with the same purpose.

To re-enact the same play, no matter the stage,
tell the same story, page for page,
sing the same song, with different word,
let the bee loose, against the bird...

Peace

There’s a little girl I know, who’s a little fond of me
She’s cute, kind, and considerate, and as clever as can be.
She knows everything about me, all the good and the bad
and listens tirelessly to every thought I’ve ever had.
I can’t fathom a reason, as to why we’d ever fight
It never seems to matter, who is wrong or right.
It should be ideal, she even puts up with my snoring
So why am I so terrified of simply being boring???

Written July 09, an exploration of my tendancy of old to fight with the people I love, and coming to terms with the equally beautiful and scary alternative.